Compiled      b/ 
s&bel  C.  Herndon 


CD 


GIFT  OF 
Class  of   1900 


1>S 


A 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

Microsoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/bluebirdnotesgleOOhernrich 


Motes  (;'•}, 

<&  learns  of  <Bla6ness 


*    •  «••. 


"Grow  always,  give  of  your  store  and  to  the 
best  of  your  ability;  fill  the  need  nearest  you — 
and  one  morning  you  will  awake  to  find  the  Blue* 
bird   nestling   near  your   chamber   window." 


COPYRIGHT  BY 

ISABEL   C.    HERNDON 
1919 

ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 


FIFTH  EDITION 


PUBLISHED     BY 

Isabel  C.  herndon. 

6519    BELLA    VISTA    WAY. 
HOLLYWOOD.    CALIFORNIA. 


Friend  o'  Mine: 

Fm  sending  yon  a  whole  flock  o'  "Blue  Birds" 
with  bits  o'  song  and  notes  o'  cheer  that  float  to 
tne  as  I  come  along  Life's  Highway  o'  Ups  and 
Downs  (mostly  Ups),  Dust  and  Flowers  (mostly 
Flowers). 

The  names  o'  many  o'  the  singers  have  escaped 
me,  but  I  want  to  thank  them  every  one  for  the 
inspiration  and  the  consolation  that  it  is  sheer  joy 
for  me  to  pass  along.  I  feel  serenely  sure  they 
will  join  me  in  hoping  that: 

These  little  lovely  lilts  that  I've  caught  a  down  the 

years, 
Will   put   you   into   tune   with    the    music   o'   the 
spheres. 


CA 


^.ss 


<*.  *°\° 


3Mue  3Mr6  biotas 


"What  is  it  not  to  care  for  poetry !  It  is  to  have 
no  little  dreams  and  fancies,  no  holy  memories  of 
golden  days — to  be  unmoved  by  serene»:rrii4:sjum- 
mer  evenings,  or  dawn  o'er  wild  fiends,,  singing  or 
sunshine,  little  tales  told  by  the  fire  a  ^long  while* 
since,  glow-worms  and  brier  rose — for  of  all  of 
these  things  and  more  is  poetry  made.  It  is  to  be 
cut  off  forever  from  the  fellowship  of  great  men 
that  are  gone,  to  see  men  and  women  without  >.heir 
halos,  and  the  world  without  its  glory;  to  miss  the 
meaning  lurking  behind  the  common  things — like 
elves  hiding  in  flowers;  it  is  to  beat  one's  hand  all 
day  against  the  gates  of  Fairyland  and  to  find  that 
they  are  shut  and  the  country  empty  and  the 
kings — gone  hence."  — Lord  Dunsany. 

Sp  fp  »|» 

God  wants  our  life  to  be  a  song.  He  has  writ- 
ten the  music  for  us  in  His  Word  and  in  the  duties 
that  come  to  us  in  our  places  and  relations  in  life. 
The  things  we  ought  to  do  are  the  notes  set  upon  the 
staff.  To  make  our  lives  beautiful  music  we  must 
be  obedient  and  submissive.  Any  disobedience  is 
the  singing  of  a  false  note  and  yields  discord. 

— /.  R  Miller. 

•*•        •*•        *p 

To  your  judgments  give  ye  not  the  reins 
With  too  much  eagerness,  like  him,  who  ere 
The  corn  be  ripe,  is  fain  to  count  the  grains ; 
For  I  have  seen  the  briar  through  the  winter  snows 
Look  sharp  and  stiff — yet  on  a  future  day 
High  on  its  summit  bear  the  tender  rose. 

— Dante. 


868741 


Page  Three 


No  one  is  respectable  who  is  not  doing  his  best. 

— Horace  Fletcher. 

•J.  9p  »J» 

,c.  *•••  The  bfaradimjnded  see  the  truth  in  different 
;  •  epreligio.ttsr;;  the/;jiarirow-minded  see  only  their  dif- 
'  • '  «f erierfces'. '  — A  Chinese  Proverb. 


"A  little  explained,  a  little  endured,  a  little  passed 
over  in  silence,  and  lo!  the  rugged  atoms  fit  smooth 


ic." 


#     # 


Our  doubts  are  traitors  and  make  us  lose  the  good 
we  oft  might  win  by  fearing  to  attempt. 

— Shakespeare. 


•*•     •»•     *p 

Would  you  remain  always  young,  and  would 
you  carry  all  joy  and  buoyancy  of  youth  into  your 
maturer  years?  ....  Then  have  care  concern- 
ing one  thing — how  you  live  in  your  thought  world. 

— R.  W.  Trine. 

T  T  T 

The  greatest  school  is  the  University  of  Hard 
Knocks.  Its  playground  is  the  Universe;  its  Presi- 
dent is  the  Almighty.  Its  books  are  bumps.  Every 
bump  we  get  is  a  lesson.  If  we  learn  the  lesson  with 
one  bump,  we  don't  get  that  bump  any  more;  we 
get  promoted  to  the  next  bump. 

—Ralph  Parlette. 

Page  Four 


"Happiness  may  be  thought,  sought  or  caught, 
but  not  bought.'* 


"Were  there  no  night  we  could  not  read  the  stars, 
The  heavens  would  turn  into  a  blinding  glare; 
Freedom  is  best  seen  through  the  prison  bars, 
And  rough  seas  make  the  haven  passing  fair." 


"Ministry  helps  to  mastery.  When  we  are  busy 
serving  others  we  forget  to  obey  self.  It  is  the  life 
that  is  most  engaged  in  unselfish  service  against  which 
the  arrows  of  temptation  fly  with  least  force.  De- 
votion to  others  is  strong  against  the  temptations  of 
selfishness." 


"It  is  not  enough  to  dream  only.  The  dream  is 
only  the  ore — the  raw  material. 

The  heat  of  your  will  must  be  enough  to  form 
a  crucible  to  fuse  the  ore  to  your  purpose.  Your 
constant  act  must  be  the  hammer  forging  the  work 
to  completeness." 

tP  V  v 

"What  seems  to  grow  fairer  to  me  as  life  goes 
by  is  the  love  and  the  grace  and  the  tenderness  of  it ; 
not  its  wit  and  cleverness  and  grandeur  of  knowl- 
edge^— grand  as  knowledge  is — but  just  the  laughter 
of  children,  and  the  friendship  of  friends,  and  the 
cozy  talk  by  the  fire,  and  the  sight  of  flowers,  and 
the  sound  of  music." 

Page  Five 


"The  deeper  I  drink  of  the  cup  of  life  the  sweeter 
it  grows — the  sugar  is  all  at  the  bottom." 

•Ji  »ji  «J» 

"Don't  get  discouraged.     It  is  often  the  last  key 

that  opens  the  lock." 

•  #     « 

"Obstruction  is  but  virtue's  foil; 

The  stream  impeded  has  a  song." 

*  «     * 

Have  a  heart  that  never  hardens,  a  temper  that 
never  tires,  and  touch  that  never  hurts. 

— Dickens. 

^p     *j*     *p 

The  string  o'erstretched  breaks,  and  the  music 
flies;  the  string  o'er  slack  is  dumb,  and  the  music 
dies;  tune  up  the  sitar  neither  low  nor  high. 

— Edrvin  Arnold. 

^P  T*  *3t* 

He  will  not  send  thee  into  a  wood  to  fell  an  oak 
with  a  penknife.  When  He  calls  thee  to  work  thou 
never  didst,  He  will  give  thee  the  strength  thou 
never  hadst. 

— John  Mason. 

^     «j»     m 

Amusement  is  the  last  thing  about  which  we  need 
to  concern  ourselves.  What  does  a  bird  or  an  angel 
think  of  it?  Each  wings  his  way  and  his  flight  is  his 
joy.  Ruskin  says:  "All  real  and  wholesome  en- 
joyments possible  to  man  have  been  just  as  possible 
to  him  since  first  he  was  made  of  the  earth  as  they  are 
now.  To  watch  the  corn  grow  and  the  blossoms  set, 
to  draw  hard  breath  over  ploughshare  and  spade,  to 
read,  to  think,  to  love,  to  hope,  to  pray;  these  are 
the  things  that  make  men  happy." 

Page  Six 


A  gentle  hand  can  lead  even  an  elephant  by 
one  hair. — Persian  Proverb. 

v       v       *n 

"The  fine  flower  of  skill  grows  on  the  rough  stem 
of  routine." 

Sp  9p  rfr 

Our  greatest  glory  consists  not  in  never  falling, 
but  in  rising  every  time  we  fall. — Emerson. 

•p        *x*        *n 

Errors  like  straws  upon  the  surface  flow, 
He  who  would  search  for  pearls  must  dive  below. 

— Dryden. 

Sft         fft         qp 

Observe  the  postage  stamp!  Its  usefulness  de- 
pends upon  its  ability  to  stick  to  one  thing  until  it 
gets  there. — Josh  Billings. 

"Do  not  worry  about  being  inconsistent.  If  you 
are  alive  and  growing  you  will  not  think  tomorrow 
what  you  think  today.  There  are  only  two  kinds 
of  people  who  are  absolutely  consistent — idiots  and 

dead  men." 

fft     fp     ff> 

Sunshine  is  delicious,  rain  is  refreshing,  wind 
braces  up,  snow  is  exhilerating ;  there  is  really  no 
such  thing  as  bad  weather — only  different  kinds  of 
good  weather. — Rusfyin. 

*3r         •*•         *JP 

The  man  who  looks  back  on  his  life  and  says — 
"I  have  nothing  to  regret" — has  lived  in  vain.  The 
life  without  regret  is  the  life  without  gain.  Regret 
is  but  the  light  of  fuller  wisdom  from  our  past 
illuminating  our  future. — Jordan. 

Page  Seven 


No  man  can  be  ideally  successful  until  he  has 
found  his  place.  Like  a  locomotive — he  is  strong  on 
the  track,  but  weak  everywhere  else. 

— O.  S.  Marden. 

"He  who  loves  mankind  will  serve  mankind,  and 
he  who  so  serves  is  about  the  business  of  the  King, 
and  in  this  he  finds  happiness." 

"Love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law."  "Bear  ye  one 
another's  burdens." 


Seize  this  very  minute — 
What  you  can  do,  or  dream  you  can,  begin  it. 
Courage  has  genius,  power  and  magic  in  it. 
Only  engage,  and  then  the  mind  grows  heated — 
Begin  it,  and  the  work  will  be  completed. 

— Goethe. 


"When  you  find  a  fellow  that  is  weaker  than 
yourself,  give  him  a  boost,  the  exercise  will  give  you 
strength.  And  the  strength  gained  thereby  will  help 
you  in  bearing  your  own  burden.  If  you  have  not 
known  poverty,  heart  hunger  and  misunderstanding, 
God  has  overlooked  you  and  you  are  to  be  pitied. 
The  very  struggles  of  life  are  essential  for  our 
growth.  No  man  gains  physical  strength  when 
drifting  with  the  tide,  but  when  pulling  against  it. 
No  man  gains  personal  magetism — spiritual,  with- 
out exercise  of  his  spiritual  faculties.  Uniform  suc- 
cess is  not  desirable;  it  softens  the  muscles  of  the 
soul  and  takes  the  temper  out  of  the  steel  of  reso- 
lution." 

Page  Eight 


* 'Understanding  is  the  path  that  leads  to  forgive- 
ness." 

v        *5c»        *n 

A  little  fire  is  quickly  trodden  out;  which,  being 
suffered,  rivers  can  not  quench.      — Shakespeare. 

•«•     •*•     •*• 

"I  am  not  fighting  my  fight: 
I  am  singing  my  song." 

•t*  •!•  *X* 

We  are  tempted,  not  in  order  to  be  ruined,  but 
in  order  to  be  made.  Temptation  is  just  man's 
chance  of  flying  his  colors.     — Thomas  Phillips. 

•$•         !fi         S& 

The  man  who  tries  and  succeeds  is  one  degree 
less  of  a  hero  than  the  man  who  tries  and  fails  and 
yet  goes  on  trying.  — Ellen  Thornycroft  Fowler. 

V  T  V 

"As  creeping  tendrils  shudder  from  the  stone, 
The  vines  of  love  avoid  the  frigid  heart ; 

The  work  men  do  is  not  their  test  alone, 
The  love  they  win  is  far  the  better  part." 

"To  be  alive  only  to  appetite,  pleasure,  pride, 
money-making  and  not  to  goodness  and  kindness, 
purity  and  love,  history,  poetry,  music,  flowers,  stars, 
God  and  eternal  hopes, — is  to  be  all  but  DEAD." 

•$•     tj»     »j» 

"It  was  only  a  glad  'Good  Morning,' 
As  she  passed  along  the  way, 

But  it  spread  the  morning's  glory 
Over  the  live-long  day." 

Page  Nine 


"Impatience  is  the  worst  foe  of  improvement." 

fp  ijl  Sp 

"Flowers  play  music  to  the  eye,  and  music  paints 
flowers  for  the  ear." 

•3P  •*•  T» 

"Money  is  not  the  best  gift  to  humanity — indeed 
it  is  the  worst  possible  gift,  save  in  cases  of  abso- 
lute suffering  and  times  of  dire  need;  but  to  give  a 
weak  soul  strength,  a  cowardly  soul  courage,  a  lone- 
ly soul  love  and  an  erring  soul  Hope — that  is  the 
real  benevolence,  because  it  is  the  gift  which  lasts 
and  helps  both  the  giver  and  the  receiver." 

•J*  •!•  *fr 

"Thoughts  not  translated  into  life  are  loose 
leaves  driven  by  the  wind ;  they  are  dead  in  spite  of 
their  brillancy,  and  doomed  to  rot  in  obscurity." 

tf>     ff>     fp 

"Duty  is  a  hard  mechanical  process  for  making 
men  do  things  that  LOVE  would  make  easy. 
....  Love,  in  the  divine  alchemy  of  life,  trans- 
mutes all  duties  into  privileges,  all  responsibilities 
into  joys."  — William  George. 

•t*  *r  *P 

Fishing  is  human  life  epitomized.  There  is  the 
water,  calm,  inscrutable,  impenetrable — the  symbol 
of  fate — into  which  every  man  casts  his  line.  What 
lies  at  the  bottom  of  it  for  him  no  man  may  see. 
The  tiny  minnow  of  misfortune,  which  nibbles  away 
his  bait,  may  be  followed  the  next  moment  by  a 
monstrous  catch  of  good  luck,  sweeping  him  almost 
off  his  feet.  — Bruce  Barton. 

Page  Ten 


"With  your  temper  gone  you  are  as  capable  of 
successful  argument  as  a  decapitated  general  is  of 
strategy." 


*     * 


"Study  the  book  of  Acts  to  see  how  often  things 
turned  out  well  after  all  seemed  to  be  going  wrong." 


*     * 


"The  difference  between  a  great  opportunity  and 
a  cat  is — the  cat  comes  back." 


* 


"There  is  no  success  that  carries  with  it  immu- 
nity from  dark  hours." 


•*•     •*•     •3t* 

Pay  as  little  attention  to  discouragements  as 
possible.  Plow  ahead  as  a  steamer  does,  rough  or 
smooth — rain  or  shine.  To  carry  your  cargo  and 
make  your  port  that  is  the  point. 

—W.  M.  Babcock. 

Given  the  gleam  of  early  morning  on  some  wide 
water,  a  heavy  trout  breaking  the  surface  as  he 
curves  and  plunges,  with  the  fly  holding  well,  with 
the  right  sort  of  a  rod  in  your  fingers,  and  the  right 
man  in  the  other  end  of  the  canoe,  and  you  perceive 
how  easy  is  that  Emersonian  trick  of  making  the 
pomp  of  emperors  ridiculous. 

— Bliss  Perry. 

Page  Eleven 


It  is  defeat  which  educates  us. 

— Emerson. 

•*•  •*•  •!• 

"The  shutting  of  one  door  is  the  opening  of  an- 
other." 

*x*       *t*       «t* 

Don't  bark  against  the  bad,  but  chant  the  beau- 
ties of  the  good.  — Emerson. 

***     •*•     •$* 

Somehow  I  never  feel  like  good  things  b'long  to 
me  till  I  pass  'em  on  to  somebody  else. 

— Mrs   Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch. 

Curiosity  killed  a  cat  and  discovered  America. 
Same  old  Curiosity;  difference  in  direction,  that's 
all.  — Elizabeth  Torvne. 

•j.     *$  •  «$» 

"If,  instead  of  a  gem,  or  even  a  flower,  you  could 
cast  the  gift  of  music  into  the  homes  of  others — that 
would  be  giving  as  the  Angels  give." 

9fi         Sfi         ffi 

"Any  common  dog  knows  a  man  who  is  narrow 
and  unsociable  and  slinks  away  from  him,  while 
dozens  of  all  canines  will  follow  the  frank  and  honest 
fellow,  be  he  an  old  negro  with  not  even  a  bone 
to  give,  or  a  vagabond  Rip  Van  Winkle." 

Page  Twelve 


Real  character  is  quality  of  thinking. 

—H.  Wood. 

How  poor  they  are  that  have  not  patience. 

— Shakespeare. 

•X*  •*•  •*• 

The  great  thing  in  the  world  is  not  so  much  where 
we  stand,  as  in  what  direction  we  are  moving. 

— O.   W.  Holmes. 

•x*         •**         •*• 

"Whatsoever  the  mind  believes  affects  the  body. 
Mind  is  the  medium  between  soul  and  body. 
The  mind  turns  the  faucet  that  lets  in  the  flow  of 
the  soul." 

9      9      9 

"Mankind  are  always  happier  for  having  been 
happy,  so  if  you  make  them  happy  no  IP,  you  make 
them  happy  twenty  years  hence  by  the  memory  of 
it."  — Sidney  Smith. 

9      -^p       9 

And  because  the  clouds  cover  the  heavens  and 
there  is  no  harbor  in  sight,  do  you  deny  there  is  a 
harbor?  —  W.  W.  Field. 

•*•     •*•     **• 

"Learn  to  see  things  with  a  balanced  brain,  not 
with  your  prejudices." 

9       9       •*• 

If  we  could  read  the  secret  history  of  our 
enemies  we  would  find  in  each  man's  life  sorrow 
and  suffering  enough  to  disarm  all  hostility. 

— Longfellow. 

Page  Thirteen 


Endurance  is  the  crowning  quality, 
And  patience  all  the  passion  of  great  hearts. 

— /.  R.  Lowell 


* 


Fortune  will  call  at  the  smiling  gate. 

— Japanese  Proverb. 


# 


Shun  idleness,  it  is  the  rust  that  attaches  itself  to 
the  most  brilliant  metals.  — Voltaire. 


"I  think  you  have  to  be  by  yourself  and  a  bit 
lonesome  before  nature  ever  whispers  her  secrets." 

•J.  »J.  •$» 

"God  makes  us  model  in  clay  before  He  gives 
us  marble  from  which  to  carve." 


He  that  brings  sunshine  into  the  lives  of  others 
cannot  keep  it  from  himself." 


Not  what  has  happened  to  myself  today,  but 
what  has  happened  to  others  through  me — that 
should  be  my  thought. 

— Frederick  Deering  Blake. 


As  I  see  it  there  is  only  one  royal  road  to  any- 
thing approaching  contentment,  and  that  road  is 
paved  from  beginning  to  end  with  service. 

— Leigh  M.  Hodges. 

Page  Fourteen 


"When  about  to  let  go — hold  on." 

*t>     *t*     *p 

"No  man  can  avoid  his  own  company — so  he  had 
best  make  it  as  good  as  possible." 

•ji  Sfi  Sfi 

"Sorrow  is  the  mere  rust  of  the  soul.  Activity 
will  cleanse  and  brighten  it." 

9fi         •{•  Sfi 

We  mount  to  heaven  mostly  on  the  ruins  of  our 
cherished  schemes,  finding  our  failures  our  suc- 
cesses. — A  Bronson  Alcoth 

•*•     •*•     •*• 

"Whether  in  large  or  small  affairs,  there  must  be 
perpetual  adjustment.  Neither  men  nor  women, 
more  than  our  finely  strung  musical  instruments,  can 
escape  the  need  of  constant  tuning.9* 


"There  are  so  many  things — the  best  things — 
that  can  only  come  when  youth  is  past,  that  it  may 
well  happen  to  many  of  us  to  find  ourselves  happier 
and  happier  to  the  last." 


I  think  we  should  treat  our  minds  as  innocent 
children  (whose  guardian  we  are) .  Be  careful  what 
objects  and  what  subjects  we  thrust  on  their  atten- 
tion. — Thoreau. 

Page  Fifteen 


"Only  the  game  fish  swim  up  stream." 

**•     •*•     •*• 

"The  best  way  to  undoe  a  wrong  is  to  do  a 
more  beautiful  right." 

qp        Sfr        Sf> 

Every  noble  life  leaves  the  fibre  of  it  inter- 
woven in  the  work  of  the  world. — Ruskin. 

•j.         qp         Sf> 

We  should  adopt  the  sundial's  motto:  "I  record 
none  but  hours  of  sunshine." 

*p       9       9 

"Hope  is  constant  sunshine.  Happiness  is  a 
candle  in  the  wind." 

•*•  •$•  •*• 

"Sweet  memories  of  friends  along  the  way  are 
prisms  of  color  to  the  heart." 

•*•     •*•     •*• 

"Ability  never  amounts  to  much  until  it  acquires 
two  more  letters — stability." 

•ji  Sfi  »J» 

"If  bitterness  has  crept  into  the  heart  in  the  friction 
of  the  busy  day's  unguarded  moments,  be  sure  it 
steals  away  with  the  setting  sun.  Twilight  is  God's 
interval  for  peacemaking." 

•X*  **•  V 

"Money  will  buy  anything — except  happiness;  it 
will  enable  you  to  go  anywhere — except  heaven." 

•I*  *Jr  •*• 

"If  we  have  not  quiet  in  our  own  minds,  outward 
comforts  will  do  no  more  for  us  than  a  golden  slipper 
on  a  gouty  foot." 

Page  Sixteen 


"Each  man's  task  is  his  life  preserver." 

•t*     •}•     *{> 

"Thy  alchemist — contentment  be." 

"The  fire-fly  only  shines  when  on  the  wing." 

•*•  *r  •*• 

"The  more  barren  the  field  the  greater  the  priv- 
ilege of  creation." 

ff>  fft rfi 

"Oh  what  know  they  of  harbors 
Who  toss  not  on  the  sea!" 

*X*  •*•  •!• 

Love  has  power  to  give  in  a  moment  what  toil 
can  scarcely  give  in  an  age. — Goethe. 

•*••*•     •*• 

"Music  washes  away  from  the  soul  the  dust  of 
every  day  life." 

•*•     *&     •*• 

"Oh  the  little  more — and  how  much  it  is, 
The  little  less — and  what  worlds  away!" 

•jfi  «ji  «ji 

The  greatest  art  is  to  improve  the  QUALITY 
OF  THE  DAY.— Thoreau. 

V  **•  **• 

Every  man  I  meet  is  my  master  in  some  point 
and  can  instruct  me  therein. — Emerson. 

•X*  T*  *3P 

For  He  shall  give  his  angels  charge  over  thee 
to  keep  thee  in  all  thy  ways. — Isaiah. 

Sfi  Sfi  fp 

Habit  is  a  cable;  we  weave  a  thread  of  it  every 
day,  and  at  last  we  cannot  break  it. — Horace  Mann. 

Page  Seventeen 


Virgil  said  of  the  winning  crew  in  his  boat  race, 
"They  can  because  they  believe  they  can." 

The  mountain  top  must  be  reached — no  matter 
how  many  times  we  fall  in  reaching  it.  The  fall  is 
not  counted — it  does  not  register — the  picking  up 
and  going  on  is  all  that  counts. 

— Howard. 
*&     *p     *& 

When  I  go  down  to  the  grave  I  can  say,  like 
many  others,  I  have  finished  my  day's  work;  but  I 
cannot  say  I  have  finished  my  life.  My  days  will 
begin  again  the  next  morning.  The  tomb  is  not  a 
blind  alley;  it  is  a  thoroughfare.  It  closes  on  the 
twilight  to  open  on  the  dawn. 

— Victor  Hugo. 

v        •»•        *x» 

"We  ought  not  to  pronounce  judgment  on  a  fellow 
creature  until  we  know  all  that  enters  into  his  life; 
until  we  measure  all  the  forces  of  temptation  or  re- 
sistance ;  until  we  can  give  full  weight  to  all  the  fads 
in  the  case — in  other  words,  we  are  never  in  a  posi- 
tion to  judge  another.9* 

Sft  fp  fifi 

"Love  grieved — is  like  a  bird  with  wet  wings — 
it  cannot  fly,  it  cannot  rise.  It  hops  about  upon 
the  ground  chirping  anxiously,  but  every  flutter 
shakes  away  more  drops,  every  movement  is  drying 
the  tiny  feathers — and  soon  it  soars  to  the  tree 
tops,  all  the  better  for  the  shower  which  seemed 
first  to  have  robbed  it  of  even  the  power  to  rise 
again." 

Page  Eighteen 


"The  desirable  life  is  not  all  sweet, — it  is  bitter- 
sweet." 

"The  mark  of  rank  in  nature  is  capacity  for  pain, 
The  anguish  of  the  singer  makes  the  sweetness  of 
the  strain." 

•J*  •!•  Sp 

Every  duty  which  we  omit  obscures  some  truth 
which  we  should  have  known.  — Ruskin. 

"The  spider  draws  poison  out  of  the  flower;  the 
bee  draws  honey  out  of  the  thistle." 

•X*  V  •*• 

"All  beauty  is  an  arrangement  of  shadows,  all 
charm  is  the  play  of  light  and  shade,  and  all  happi- 
ness is  a  creature  of  pains." 

•*•  *X*  •!• 

"Never  mind  what  you  have  borne !  As  well  cry 
over  the  dirty  face  you  had  when  you  were  a  child ! 
Wipe  out  the  past,  TRUST  the  future,  and  live  in  a 
glorious  and  glorified  NOW." 

•»•     •*•     •*• 

Your  gloomy  days,  your  experiences  of  rebuff, 
your  failures,  your  rainy  seasons  of  sadness,  your 
wistful  moments,  your  pangs  of  dreaming  and  long- 
ing— they  are  not  wasted,  they  are  making  you  deep- 
ly fertile.  They  are  preparing  your  soil  to  grow 
that  happiness  which  is  as  a  ripe,  round  apple;  un- 
plowed  hearts  grow  only  crab-apples. 

— Frank  Crane. 

Page  Nineteen 


"It  is  a  libel  on  the  Creator  to  be  depressed." 

•ji  ip  ¥p 

Peace  rules  the  day  where  reason  rules  the  mind. 

— Collins. 

This  is  the  word:     "Some  one  hath  need  of  thee." 

— Emma  C.  Dorvd. 
•jp     *p     *n 

"Keep  your  face  always  toward  the  sunshine  and 
the  shadows  will  fall  behind." 

•n        *p        *r* 

"Happiness  consists  in  being  on  good  terms  with 
one's  self." 

Patience  is  the  strongest  of  soft  drinks,   for  it 
kills  the  giant  Despair.  — Douglas  J  err  old. 

9$         9fi         9p 

"Be  noble!    And  the  noblesness  that  lies  in  others 
(sleeping,  but  never  dead),  will  rise  in  majesty  to 

meet  thine  own!" 

•*•     •*•     v 

It  is  not  enough  to  be  industrious;  so  are  the  ants. 
What  are  you  industrious  about? 

— Thoreau. 

Errors,  like  straws,  upon  the  surface  flow; 
He  who  would  search  for  pearls  must  dive  below. 

— Drydert. 

•5P       9       9 

"A  simple  touch  of  scarlet  on  the  hill 

Where  sumac  dons  the  color  of  the  flame ; 

A  leaf-strewn  stream  that  loiters  toward  the  mill ; 
A  golden  path  that  shows  where  Autumn  came." 

Page  Twenty 


MEMORY 

By  Hilton  R.  Creer 
Shrined  in  the  inmost  chamber  of  the  heart 
There  is  a  vase  of  sheer  and  beaten  gold, 
A  fragile  thing,  and  exquisite,  wherein 
The  fairest  flowers  of  departed  Junes 
Are  kept  perennial — the  slender  vase 
— Which  men  call  Memory ! 

•X*  •*•  •*• 

TRANSGRESSION 

I  meant  to  do  my  work  today, — 

But  a  brown  bird  sang  in  the  apple  tree, 
And  a  butterfly  flitted  across  the  field, 

And  all  the  leaves  were  calling  me. 
And  the  wind  went  sighing  over  the  land, 
Tossing  the  grasses  to  and  fro, 
And  a  rainbow  held  out  its  shining  hand — 
So  what  could  I  do  but  laugh  and  go? 

— Richard  Le  Gallienne. 

DEFEAT 

Defeat  may  serve  as  well  as  victory 

To  shake  the  soul  and  let  the  glory  out. 
When  the  great  oak  is  straining  in  the  wind, 

The  boughs  drink  in  new  beauty,  and  the  trunk 
Sends  down  a  deeper  root  on  the  windward  side. 

Only  the  soul  that  knows  the  mighty  grief 
Can  know  the  mighty  rapture.    Sorrows  come 

To  stretch  out  spaces  in  the  heart  for  joy 

— Edwin  Markham. 

Page  Twenty-one 


GOD  WITH   US 

A  pretty  thought  on  a  printed  page — 

And  I  thought  it  fresh  and  new, 
And  I  plucked  it  to  put  in  my  memory  chest, 

With  the  beautiful,  good  and  true. 

For  my  Memory  Chest  holds  a  miser's  hoard, 
My  treasure — the  thoughts  of  the  great, 

How  I  love  to  mumble  the  sweet  words  o'er, 
And  lay  them  away  in  state. 

So  the  fresh  little  thought  I  locked  with  my  store, 
With  the  others  to  lie  bright  and  still, 

That  at  any  time  I  might  draw  it  forth 
To  give  me  pleasure  at  will. 

But  I  did  not  know  that  a  spark  of  life 

I  had  tried  to  imprison  there ; 
It  roused  dead  thoughts  to  burst  their  cells, 

And  master  me  unaware. 

They  rioted  through  my  brain  apace, 

Then  gradually  formed  in  line, 
And  I  saw  the  haphazard  scraps  of  life, 

Conform  to  a  Master's  design. 

And  thoughts  and  thoughts  from  the  Everywhere 
Found  bodies  in  words  and  deeds. 

At  a  thought's  command  the  universe  stood 
To  minister  unto  our  needs. 

That  little  thought  was  a  mustard  seed, 

To  a  mustard  tree  it  grew, 
With  a  million  seeds  that  the  winds  of  heaven 

To  earth's  four  corners  blew. 

— L.  M.  Leaman. 

Page  Twenty-two 


SHIPS  AT  SEA. 

"If  all  the  ships  I  have  at  sea 
Should  come  a-sailing  home  to  me, 
Ah!  well,  the  harbor  would  not  hold 
So  many  ships  as  there  would  be, 
If  all  my  ships  came  home  to  me. 

"If  half  my  ships  came  back  from  sea 
And  brought  their  precious  freight  to  me, 
Ah!  well,  I  should  have  wealth  as  great 
As  any  king  that  sits  in  state, 
So  rich  the  treasure  there  would  be 
In  half  my  ships  now  out  at  sea. 

"If  but  one  ship  I  have  at  sea 

Should  come  a-sailing  home  to  me, 

Ah!  well,  the  storm  clouds  them  might  frown, 

For  if  the  others  all  went  down, 

Still  rich  and  proud  and  glad  I'd  be, 

If  that  one  ship  came  home  to  me. 

"But  if  that  ship  went  down  at  sea 

And  all  the  others  came  to  me, 

Weighted  down  with  gems  and  wealth  untold, 

With  honor,  riches,  glory,  gold, 

The  poorest  soul  on  earth  I'd  be, 

If  that  one  ship  came  not  to  me. 

"O  skies,  be  calm!    O  winds,  blow  free! 
Blow  all  my  ships  safe  home  to  me; 
But  if  thou  sendest  some  awrack, 
To  nevermore  come  sailing  back, 
Send  any,  all,  that  sail  the  sea, 
But  send  my  love  ship  home  to  me." 

Page  Twenty-three 


JOY  IN  THE  THORN 

I  do  not  think  the  Providence  unkind 

That  gives  its  bad  things  to  this  life  of  ours; 

They  are  the  thorns  whereby  we,  travelers  blind, 
Feel  out  our  flowers. 

— Alice  Car};. 

•X*  **•  •$• 

LOVE'S    LANTERN 

Because  the  road  was  steep  and  long 
And  through  a  dark  and  lonely  land, 

God  set  upon  my  lips  a  song 
And  put  a  lantern  in  my  hand. 

Through  miles  on  weary  miles  of  night 
That  stretch  relentless  on  my  way 

My  lantern  burns  serene  and  white, 
An  unexhausted  cup  of  day. 

O  golden  lights  and  lights  like  wine, 
How  dim  your  boasted  splendors  are. 

Behold  this  little  lamp  of  mine : 
It  is  more  starlike  than  a  star! 

— Joyce  Kilmer. 

'MID  THE  ROAR 

"  'Mid  the  roar 
Of  this  rude,  striving  world,  I  hear  your  life 
Pouring  its  music,  even  as  one  might  hear, 
Far  off,  a  chime  of  silver  bells  that  hints 
Of  mounting  orisons,  of  happy  hymns, 
Unfailing  trust  and  immemorial  peace." 

Page  Twenty-jour 


TOGETHER 

We  two  in  the  fever  and  fervor  and  glow 
Of  life's  high  tide  have  rejoiced  together; 

We  have  looked  out  over  the  glittering  snow, 
And    known    we    were    dwelling    in     Summer 
weather ; 

For  the  seasons  are  made  by  the  heart  I  hold, 

And  not  by  outdoor  heat  or  cold. 

We  two,  in  the  shadows  of  pain  and  woe, 
Have  journeyed  together  in  dim,  dark  places, 

Where  black-robed  Sorrow  walked  to  and  fro, 
And  Fear  and  Trouble,  with  phantom  faces, 

Peered  out  upon  us  and  froze  our  blood, 

Though  June's  fair  roses  were  all  in  bud. 

We  two  have  measured  all  depths,  all  heights, 
We  have  bathed  in  tears,  we    have    sunned    in 
laughter ; 

We  have  known  all  sorrows  and  delights — 
They  never  could  keep  us  apart  hereafter. 

Whether  your  spirit  went  high  or  low, 

My  own  would  follow,  and  find  you  I  know. 

If  they  took  my  soul  into  Paradise, 

And  told  me  I  must  be  content  without  you, 

I  would  weary  them  so  with  my  lonesome  cries, 
And  the  ceaseless  questions  I  asked  about  you, 

They  would  open  the  gates  and  set  me  free, 

Or  else  they  would  find  you  and  bring  you  to  me. 

•*•        v        9 

Let  us  love  so  well  our  work  shall  be  sweeter 
for  our  love,  and  still  our  love  be  sweeter  for  our 
work.  — E.  B.  Browning. 

Page  Twenty-five 


THE  CAUSE 

"Whatever  the  weather  may  be,"  says  he, 
Whatever  the  weather  may  be, 
It's  the  songs  ye  sing  and  the  smiles  ye  wear 
That's  a-making  the  sunshine  everywhere. 

— James  Whitcomb  Riley. 

•£         •£        4p 

TO  A  BULB 

Misshaped,  black,  unlovely  to  the  sight, 
O  mute  companion  of  the  murky  mole, 

You  must  feel  over- joyed  to  have  a  white, 
Imperious,  dainty  lily  for  a  soul. 

— By  R.  K.  Munkittrick 


WORK 

Let  me  do  my  work  from  day  to  day, 
In  field  or  forest,  at  the  desk  or  loom, 
In  roaring  market  place,  or  tranquil  room ; 
Let  me  but  find  it  in  my  heart  to  say, 
— When  vagrant  wishes  beckon  me  astray — 
"This  is  my  work;  my  blessing,  not  my  doom; 
Of  all  who  live  I  am  the  one  by  whom 
This  work  can  best  be  done,  in  the  right  way." 
Then  shall  I  see  it  not  too  great  or  small, 
To  suit  my  spirit  and  to  prove  my  powers ; 
THEN  shall  I  cheerful  greet  the  laboring  hours, 
And  cheerful  turn,  when  the  long  shadows  fall 
At  eventide,  to  play  and  love  and  rest, 
Because  I  know  for  me  my  work  is  best." 

— Henry  Van  Dyke- 
Page  Twenty-six 


FISHING  REASONS 

Fish  can  be  bought  in  the  market  place, 

So  it  isn't  the  fish  I'm  after. 
I  want  to  get  free  from  the  care-drawn  face 

And  back  to  an  honest  laughter, 
I  want  to  get  out  where  the  skies  are  clean 

And  rest  by  a  river's  brink, 
I  want  to  get  out  where  the  woods  are  green 

And  I  want  a  few  hours  to  think. 
Oh,  it  isn't  the  fish  I  am  greedy  for, 

It's  the  chatter  and  song  of  birds, 
And  the  talk  of  trees  that  I've  known  before. 

I  am  weary  of  selfish  words. 
I  want  to  stretch  out,  just  my  soul  and  I, 

In  a  place  from  the  strife  afar, 
And  let  a  few  care-filled  hours  pass  by 

As  I  think  of  the  things  that  are. 
Oh,  it  isn't  the  fish  that  I  go  to  get, 

Though  there's  joy  in  a  swishing  line 
And  a  splendid  thrill  when  my  grip  I  set 

And  a  small  mouthed  bass  is  mine! 
But  my  soul  seems  cramped  in  the  stifling  air 

That  is  heavy  with  talk  of  gain 
And  I  want  to  get  out  where  the  world  is  fair 

And  there  isn't  so  much  of  pain. 
Fish  can  be  bought  in  the  market  place 

But  I  long  for  the  running  streams, 
And  I  want  to  be  free  from  the  care-drawn  face 

And  the  city  of  dreadful  dreams. 
I  want  to  stretch  out,  just  my  soul  and  I 

On  a  sun-kissed  river  shore, 
And  be,  as  a  few  mad  hours  rush  by, 

The  man  that  I  am,  once  more. 
— Copyright,  1918,  By  Edgar  A.  Guest. 

Page  Twenty-seven 


THE  GOLDEN-ROD 

Said  the  bumble-bee  to  the  golden-rod, 

One  sultry  summer  day, 

"Why  do  you  dwell  on  this  dusty  road, 

Where  only  milk  weeds  stay?" 

With  a  pleasant  smile  and  a  gentle  sway, 

Answered  the  golden-rod, 

"I  love  to  grow  and  brighten  the  way 

By  weary  travelers  trod." 

— Emma  King  in  the  "Young  Eagle." 


One  ship  sails  east 

And  another  west, 

With  the  selfsame  winds  that  blow. 

'Tis  the  set  of  the  sails, 

And  not  the  gales, 

Which  decides  the  way  to  go. 

Like  the  winds  of  the  sea 

Are  the  ways  of  fate, 

As  we  voyage  along  through  life ; 

'Tis  the  will  of  the  soul 

That  decides  the  goal, 

And  not  the  calm  or  the  strife. 

— Author  Not  Known. 

*&  *r  •*• 

"One  smile  can  glorify  a  day, 
One  word  true  hope  impart, 
The  least  disciple  need  not  say, 
There  are  no  alms  to  give  away, 
If  love  be  in  the  heart." 

Page  Twenty-eight 


AN  OPTIMIST. 

"I  know  as  my  life  grows  older, 

And  my  eyes  have  clearer  sight, 
That  under  each  rank  wrong  somewhere 

There  lies  the  root  of  right; 
That  each  sorrow  has  its  purpose, 

By  the  sorrowing  oft  unguessed; 
But  as  sure  as  the  sun  brings  morning, 

Whatever  is — is  best. 

"I  know  that  each  sinful  action, 

As  sure  as  night  brings  shade, 
Is  somewhere  some  time  punished, 

Tho'  the  hour  be  long  delayed, 
I  know  that  the  soul  is  aided 

Sometimes  by  the  heart's  unrest. 
And  "to  grow"  means  often  to  suffer, 

But — whatever  is — is  best. 

"I  know  there  is  no  error 

In  the  great  supernal  plan, 
And  all  things  work  together 

For  the  final  good  of  man. 
And  I  know  when  my  soul  speeds  onward 

In  its  grand  eternal  quest, 
I  shall  cry  as  I  look  back  earthward, 

Whatever  is — is  best." 

•ji  Sfr  «jl 

But  what  if  I  fail  in  my  purpose  here? 
It  is  but  to  keep  the  nerves  at  strain, 
To  dry  one's  eyes  and  laugh  at  a  fall, 
And  baffled  get  up  and  begin  again. 
So  the  chase  takes  up  one's  life — that's  all. 

— Robert  Browning:  Life  in  a  Love. 

Page  Twenty-nine 


WIND  AND  BLOSSOMS 

Even  though  the  blossoms 

Tremble  to  their  fall, 
Wind  is  singing,  "Still  we  had 

The  sweetest  time  of  all ! 
For  I  have  kissed  the  blossoms, 

Singing  east  and  west, 
And  here  the  birds  were  sheltered, 

Singing  round  the  nest. 
And  I  know  a  little  sweetheart  girl 

Who  wore  them  on  her  breast!" 

— Frank  Stanton. 


MY  SOUL 

I  have  broken  my  soul  to  harness, 
I  have  taught  it  to  toil  for  me, 
I  have  driven  it  over  the  f  arness 
Of  river  and  hill  and  sea ; 
Yet,  Soul,  I  have  not  degraded 
The  Soul  of  myself  within  — 
Yet,  Soul,  I  have  never  traded 
And  given  you  into  sin. 

I  have  led  you  by  rein  and  halter, 
I  have  peddled  my  strength  and  youth, 
But  never  a  bribe  could  alter 
The  thing  that  I  thought  the  truth ; 
And  when  I  shall  lose  the  tether, 
When  we  wait  at  the  final  place, 
When  we  stand  before  God  together, 
I  may  look  at  you  face  to  face. 

—D.  Malloch. 


Page  Thirty 


"Love,  friendship,  simple  hopes,  kindly  ambitions, 
sweet  affections,  home,  the  white  table-cloth,  the 
yellow  butter,  the  golden  honey,  the  amber  tea,  the 
fragrant  sprig  of  woodbine  in  the  hair,  the  simple 
bouquet  of  wild  roses  on  the  table,  the  bright  fire  on 
the  friendly  hearth  when  the  cool  of  evening  falls, 
the  sweet  clover  under  the  window,  the  comfortable 
cat  in  the  sunshine  on  the  porch,  the  old  dog  at 
the  gate,  the  bees  a-hum  in  the  buckwheat — what 
is  there  better  than  these  things  or  more  to  be  loved, 
after  all?" 

•t*        *x*        •*• 

PRAYER  FOR  A  NEW  HOUSE 
By  Louis  Untermeyer 

May  nothing  evil  cross  this  door, 

And  may  ill-fortune  never  pry 
About  these  windows;  may  the  roar 

And  rains  go  by. 

Strengthened  by  faith,  these  rafters  will 
Withstand  the  battering  of  the  storm ; 

This  hearth,  though  all  the  world  grow  chill, 
Will  keep  us  warm. 

Peace  shall  walk  softly  through  these  rooms, 
Touching  our  lips  with  holy  wine, 

Till  every  casual  corner  blooms 
Into  a  shrine. 

Laughter  shall  drown  the  raucous  shout ; 

And,  though  these  sheltering  walls  are  thin 
May  they  be  strong  to  keep  hate  out 

And  hold  love  in. 

Page  Thirty-one 


"Be  happy!  let  who  will  be  sad, 
There  are  so  many  pleasant  things, 
So  many  things  to  make  us  glad : 
The  flowers,  the  buds,  the  bird  that  sings 
— And  sweeter  still  than  all  of  these — 
Our  friendship,  and  old  memories." 

•Ji  fji  Sp 

"It  is  not  raining  rain  for  me, 

It's  raining  daffodils, 
In  every  dimpled  drop  I  see 

Wild  flowers  on  the  hills. 

"The  clouds  of  gray  engulf  the  day, 

And  overwhelm  the  town. 
It  is  not  raining  rain  to  me, 

It's  raining  roses  down." 

•*•  *P  **• 

"Let  the  world  drone  its  song, 

In  a  sad  minor  key, 
The  anthem  of  gladness 

Is  ringing  for  me." 

•*•     •*•     **• 

"The  sun  is  the  light  of  day, 
Yet  its  light  conceals 
The  light  of  a  thousand  suns 
Which  night  reveals." 

— Author  Unknown. 

9p  fp  «j» 

"The  inner  side  of  every  cloud  is  bright  and  shin- 
ing— 
I  therefore  turn  my  clouds  about 
And  always  wear  them  inside  out — 
To  show  the  lining." 

Page  Thirty-two 


MY  CREED 

For  darkness  passes — storms  shall  not  abide, 
A  little  patience  and  the  fog  is  past ; 
After  the  sorrow  of  the  ebbing  tide, 
The  singing  floods  return  in  joy  at  last. 
The  night  is  long  and  pain  weighs  heavily, 
But  God  will  hold  His  world  above  despair ; 
Look  to  the  East,  where  up  the  lurid  sky 
The  morning  climbs !     The  day  shall  yet  be  fair. 

— Celia  Baxter. 

•*•  *3r  *P 

"Full  many  a  race  is  lost 

Ere  ever  a  step  is  run ; 
And  many  a  coward  fails 

Ere  ever  his  work's  begun. 
Think  big  and  your  deeds  will  grow, 

Think  small  and  you'll  fall  behind. 
Think  that  you  can  and  you  will, 

It's  all  in  the  state  of  mind." 

•Ji.ji.jf. 

"It  isn't  the  things  you've  done,  dear, 
It's  the  things  you  have  left  undone 
That  gives  you  the  bit  of  a  heartache 
At  the  setting  of  the  sun." 

"It  is  not  that  our  earlier  years  escape  the  April 

showers, 
Or  that  to  childhood's  heart  is  known  no  thorns 

among  the  flowers; 
It  is  not  that  our  later  years  of  cares  are  woven 

wholly, 
But  smiles  less  quickly  chase  the  tears — and  wounds 

are  healed  more  slowly." 

Page  Thirty-three 


The  little  cares  that  fretted  me,  I  lost  them  yester- 
day 

Among  the  fields,  above  the  sea,  among  the  winds 
that  play. 

Among  the  lowing  of  the  herds,  the  rustling  of  the 
trees, 

Among  the  singing  of  the  birds,  the  humming  of  the 
bees.  — Mrs.  Browning. 

•**     **•     •*• 

"You  never  can  tell  what  your  thoughts  can  do 
In  bringing  you  hate  or  love, 
For  thoughts  are  things, 
And  their  airy  wings 
Are  swifter  than  carrier  dove. 
They  follow  the  law  of  the  universe — 
Each  thing  must  create  its  kind, 
And  they  speed  over  the  track, 
To  bring  you  back 
Whatever  went  out  of  your  mind." 

•j* qp      .   $£> 

"Just  a  little  whiff  of  balsam,  just  a  little  patch  o' 
green, 
By  a  little  lake  where  fancy  bids  me  roam ; 
Moon  a  shinin'  through  the  birches,  skeeters  hum- 
min'  on  the  screen 
Of  a  little  rag  o'  canvas — that's  my  home!" 
It  is  there  that  we  are  going  with  our  rods  and  reels 
and  traces, 
To  a  silent,  smoky  Indian  that  we  know — 
To  a  couch  of  new-pulled  hemlock,  with  the  star- 
light on  our  faces, 
For  the  Red  Gods  call  us  out  and  we  must  go ! 

—  Kipling. 

Page  Thirty-four 


JUDGE  NOT! 

In  men  who  men  condemn  as  ill 
I  find  so  much  of  goodness  still; 
In  men  who  men  pronounce  divine, 

I  find  so  much  of  sin  and  blot 
I  hesitate  to  draw  the  line 

Between  the  two — where  God  has  not. 

— Joaquin  Miller, 

»f»  •{•  Sft 

WIRELESS 

How  far  a  heart-string  stretches!     Finer  spun 
Than  gossamer  and  like  Arachne's  thread, 
From  thoughts  that  lift  it  to  the  highest  airs, 
All  spirit-blown  it  crosses  earth  and  seas, 
And  mends  its  broken  harmony  at  last 
Upon  the  listening  heart  that  holds  it  fast! 

— Christopher. 

Sp  fji  »ji 

A  STORY 

"When  the  story  ended  badly, 

And  you  found  me  bathed  in  tears, 

You  would  seize  the  book  and  mock  me 
With  your  teasing,  boyish  jeers. 

"Now  no  printed  griefs  can  move  me 

To  the  semblance  of  a  sigh; 
You  are  at  the  front,  and  only 

Happy  endings  make  me  cry!" 

•p        •*•        **• 

Who  seeks  a  faultless  friend,  rests  friendless. 

— Turkish  Proverb. 

Page  Thirty-five 


THE  CANARY 

"Dat  little  yaller  cage-bird  preems  'is  wings, 
An'  he  mounts  'is  pyerch  an'  sings  an'  sings; 
He  feels  'is  cage,  but  I  spec'  he  'low 
To  take  what  comes  an'  sing  anyhow. 
An'  you  ain't  by  yo'self,  little  bird,  in  dat — 
No,  you  ain't  by  yo'self  in  dat." 

*fr  V  *P 

It  is  in  loving,  not  in  being  loved, 

The  heart  is  blessed; 
It  is  in  giving,  not  in  seeking  gifts, 

We  find  our  quest. 
Whatever  be  thy  longing  or  thy  need 

That  do  thou  give. 

— M.  E.  Russell 

•jl  Sfi  Sfr 

These  are  gifts  I  ask  of  thee,  spirit  serene — 

Strength  for  the  daily  task; 

Courage  to  face  the  road ; 

Good  cheer  to  help  me  bear  the  traveler's  load ; 

And  for  the  hours  of  rest  that  come  between, 

And  inward  joy  in  all  things  heard  and  seen. 

These  are  the    sins  I  fain    would  have    thee    take 

away — 
Malice  and  cold  disdain; 
Hot  anger,  sullen  hate; 
Scorn  of  the  lowly,  envy  of  the  great; 
And  discontent  that  casts  a  shadow  gray 
On  all  the  brightness  of  a  common  day. 

— Hem})  van  Dyke. 

Page  Thirty-six 


FOLKS  NEED  A  LOT  OF  LOVING. 

"Folks  need  a  lot  of  loving  in  the  morning, 

The  day  is  all  before  with  cares  beset 
The  cares  we  know  and  they  that  give  no  warning, 

For  love  is  God's  own  antidote  for  fret. 
"Folks  need  a  heap  of  loving  at  the  noon  time, 

In  the  battle  lull,  the  moment  snatched  from  strife 
Half  between  the  waking  and  the  croon  time, 

While  bickering  and  worrying  are  rife. 
"Folks  hunger  so  for  loving  at  the  night-time 

When  wearily  they  take  them  home  to  rest, 
At  slumber-song-and-turning-out-the-light-time, 

Of  all  the  times  for  loving  that's  the  best. 
"Folks  want  a  lot  of  loving  every  minute, 

The  sympathy  of  others  and  their  smile 
Till  life  end,  from  the  minute  they  begin  it 

Folks  need  a  lot  of  loving  all  the  while." 


WHAT  IS  LOVE? 

Love  is  not  getting,  but 
Giving,  not  a  wild 
Dream  of  pleasure,  and  a 
Madness  of  desire. — Oh,  no, 
Love  is  not  that. — It  is 
Goodness  and  Honor,  and 
Peace  and  pure  living. — 
Yes,  love  is  that;  and  it  is 
The  best  thing  in  the 
World,  and  the  thing  that 
Lives  longest. — 

— Hemy  van  Dl;£e. 

Page  Thirty-seven 


BREADTH  OF  VIEW 

Three  priests,  of  diverse  faiths,  one  morning  fair, 
By  roads  apart,  far  from  each  other's  sight 
Sought  out  a  shrine  upon  a  mountain  height, 
And  when  they  reached  the  sacred  precincts  there, 
Stood  on  the  crest,  and  breathed  the  crystal  air 
With  silent  joy,  till  one  with  locks  of  white, 
With  eyes  upon  the  valley,  bathed  in  light, 
Addressed  the  pilgrims  with  a  wisdom  rare: 
"O  brothers,  we  have  glimpsed  but  narrow  skies, 
And  trod  one  path,  as  if  'twere  all  we  knew, 
To  climb  the  mount  at  last,  and  there,  more  wise, 
Behold  all  roads  have  brought  us  good  and  true 
To  heights  divine,  where  we  with  clearer  eyes 
Can  see  our  need  is  greater  breadth  of  view." 
— Washington  Van  Dusen  in  the  Christian  Register. 

"That  music  has  the  power  of  soothing  one's  brain 
has  long  been  conceded.  That  is  the  wherefore  of 
the  mother's  lullaby.  That  is  the  reason  of  the  popu- 
larity of  concerts  of  any  kind.  It  creates  an  atmos- 
phere of  forgetfulness  of  cares  and  a  spirit  of  repose 
that  is  more  efficacious  than  any  artificial  means 
concocted  by  the  mind  of  any  chemist." 

«ji  »ji  «ji 

"He  dared  to  reduce  religion  to  a  simple  propo- 
sition. *This  is  my  commandment  that  ye  have  love, 
one  for  another.'  He  wanted  to  make  people  friend- 
ly, kind,  just  and  generous  toward  one  another. 
He  was  not  interested  in  catechizing  men  concerning 
church  dogmas.  He  rebuked  the  Scribes  and  Phar- 
isees who  argued  for  and  tested  people  by  their 
creeds — He  rebuked  them  with  words  that  have  lost 
none  of  their  force  through  the  centuries." 

Page  Thirty-eight 


Teach  me,  Father,  how  to  go 
Softly  as  the  grasses  grow ; 
Hush  my  soul  to  meet  the  shock 
Of  the  wild  world  as  a  rock ; 
But  my  spirit,  propped  with  power, 
Make  as  simple  as  a  flower. 
Let  the  dry  heart  fill  its  cup, 
Like  a  poppy  looking  up; 
Let  life  lightly  wear  her  crown, 
Like   a  poppy   looking  down, 
When  its  heart  is  filled  with  dew 
And  its  life  begins  anew. 

Teach  me,  Father,  how  to  be 
Kind  and  patient  as  a  tree. 
Joyfully  the  crickets  croon 
Under  the  shady  oak  at  noon ; 
Beetle,  on  his  mission  bent, 
Tarries  in  that  cooling  tent. 
Let  me,  also,  cheer  a  spot, 
Hidden  field  or  garden  grot — 
Place  where  passing  souls  can  rest 
On  the  way  and  be  their  best. 

— Edwin  Markham. 

•*•  •*•  "St* 

"The  kiss  of  the  sun  for  pardon, 
The  song  of  the  bird  for  mirth, 

One  is  nearer  God's  heart  in  a  garden 
Than  anywhere  else  on  earth." 


The  greater  men  are,  the  humbler  they  are,  be- 
cause they  conceive  of  a  greatness  beyond  attain- 
ment. — Gibbon. 

Page  Thirty-nine 


HOME 

"Under  the  brown,  bird-haunted  eaves  of  thatch 
The  hollyhocks  in  crimson  glory  burned 
Against  black  timber  and  old  rosy  brick. 
And  over  the  green  door  in  clusters  thick 
Hung  tangled  passion-flowers,  when  we  returned 
To  our  own  threshold ;  and  with  hand  on  latch 
We  stood  a  moment  in  the  sunset  gleam 
And  looked  upon  our  home  as  in  a  dream. 
Rapt  in  a  golden  glow  of  still  delight, 
Together  on  the  threshold  in  the  sun 
We  stood  rejoicing  that  we  two  had  won 
To  this  deep  golden  peace  ere  day  was  done, 
That  over  gloomy  plain  and  storm-swept  height 
We  two,  O  love,  had  won  to  home  ere  night." 

V  V  *P 

Laugh  and  the  world  laughs  with  you, 

Weep  and  you  weep  alone. 
The  world  pays  you  cash  for  smiles  and  laughs, 
But  not  one  cent  for  a  groan. 

— /.  G.  Mills. 
»jf.     «*.     «j« 

"Could  we  but  draw  aside  the  curtain, 

That  enfolds  each  other's  lives, 
See  the  naked  heart  and  spirit, 

Know  what  spur  the  action  gives, 
Often  we  should  find  it  better, 

Purer  than  we  judge  we  should. 
We  might  love  each  other  better 

If  we  only  understood." 
•j.     •(•  .  «$. 

"Do  not  spend  so  much  time  in  getting  a  living 
that  you  will  have  no  time  to  live." 

Page  Forty 


MINIATURE 

For  all  your  gestures,  for  your  gray-blue  eyes 

And  Irish  mouth  and  hair  that  makes  you  child 

When  shaken  out  at  evening;  for  your  mirth 

And  your  quick  pity,  and  your  mother's  breast; 

For  the  great  tenderness  that  you  have  given 

And  the  rich  dreams  through  purple  flowing  night, 

The  holy  lull  of  effort  and  the  peace 

Of  a  deep  love;  because  of  all  these  things, 

Wherever  I  should  be — beyond  what  seas 

Of  an  enchanted  music,  on  what  isles, 

I  know  not,  of  strange  irradiance, 

In  dream  or  life  or  death — dissatisfied 

With  splendor  or  white  mystery,  my  heart 

Would  break — my  heart  would  break — never  to 

hear 
Your  tones  again  or  feel  your  hair  again 
Beneath  my  lips,  or  see  your  lifted  eyes 
Brimming  with  all  the  secrets  of  the  stars. 

— William  Rose  Bennet. 

*5t*  •*•  *3t* 

THE  TREE 

Dear  little  tree  that  we  plant  today, 
What  will  you  be  when  we're  old  and  gray  ? 
"The  savings  bank  of  the  squirrel  and  mouse, 
For  robin  and  wren  an  apartment  house, 
The  dressing-room  of  the  butter-fly's  ball, 
The  locust's  and  katydid's  concert  hall. 
The  schoolboy's  ladder  in  pleasant  June, 
The  schoolgirl's  tent  in  the  July  noon, 
And  my  leaves  shall  whisper  them  merrily 
A  tale  of  the  children  who  planted  me." 

— Author  Not  Known. 

Page  Forty-one 


"You  prayed  for  me, 

And  when  I  waken  in  the  cold,  gray  dawn, 

The  memory  of  your  prayer  does  cause  the  glow 

Within  the  eastern  skies 

To  creep  within  my  heart; 

The  bird  songs  come  with  sweeter  music  to  mine  ear ; 

The  mercy  of  my  God  breaks  o'er  my  soul  with 

peace  divine, 
Making  me  unafraid  to  go  into  the  new  day 
When  I  remember  that  you  prayed  for  me. 

"You  prayed  for  me, 

And  when  the  long  day  is  done  with  its  sun  and 

shadows — 
Its  high,  clear  places  bathed  in  radiant  light, 
Its  deep,     dark  pitfalls     shrouded  in     gloom  and 

misery — 
I  rest  a  little  in  the  deepening  twilight 
And  lingering  glory  of  sunset  skies 
Ere  I  pass  unafraid  into  the  great  dark 
Beyond  which  lies  the  country  of  my  dreams  and 

you. 
You  rvho  prayed  for  me. 


# 


"Smile  awhile, 
And  when  you  smile 
Another  smiles, 
And  soon  there  are 
Miles  and  miles 
Of  smiles, 

And  life  is  worth  while 
Because  you  smile." 

Page  Forty-two 


"Out  of  Prosperine's  apron, 
Leaping  and  laughing  they  come, 
Buttercup  smoothing  her  petals, 
Grasshopper  sounding  his  drum; 

And  little  fern  tucking 

His  round  head  and  sucking 
The  tip  of  a  tiny  thumb. 
"Out  of  Prosperine's  apron, 
Come  little  gossamer  things 
Donning  their  bonnets  of  scarlet, 
Tying  the  golden  strings; 
While  butterflies,  soaring 
In  clouds,  come  up-pouring 
On  sapphire  and  silvery  wings. 
"Out  of  Prosperine's  apron, 
Tumble  the  blossoms  and  bees — 
Something  else  tumbles  beside  them 
That  only  the  little  child  sees; 
Something  that  haughtily, 

Friskily,  naughtily 
Idles  away  on  the  breeze. 
"Out  of  Prosperine's  apron 
A-lifting  their  mushrooms  high 
Lest  little  noses  be  sun-burned, 
The  fairies  come  mincing  by ; 
And  there's  nobody  knows 

But  the  bird  and  the  rose 
And  the  lad  with  the  laughing  eye!" 


"I  don't  meddle  with  what  my  friends  believe  or 
reject  any  more  than  I  ask  whether  they  are  rich  or 
poor;  I  love  them.** 

Page  Forty-three 


THE  THINGS  THAT  PLAGUE 

"They  come  at  night,  them  things  that  plague, 

And  gather  round  my  bed 
They  cluster  thick  about  the  foot, 

And  lean  on  top  the  head. 

They  like  the  dark,  them  things  that  plague, 

For  then  they  can  be  great, 
They  loom  like  doom  from  out  the  gloom, 

And  shriek:     "I  am  your  Fate!" 

But,  after  all,  them  things  that  plague 
Are  cowards — Say  not  you? — 

To  strike  a  man  when  he  is  down, 
And  in  the  darkness,  too. 

For  if  you'll  watch  them  things  that  plague, 

Till  coming  of  the  dawn, 
You'll  find  when  once  you're  on  your  feet, 

The  things  that  plague — are  gone!" 

«J»  •}•  «J» 

MELLOWING 

(Copyright,  1919,  by  McClure  Newspaper 
Syndicate) . 
Accumulating  years  to  some  spell  age — 
To  me  each  one  is  but  a  fresher  page 
That  opens  up  new  prospects  to  the  sight, 
And  shows  life's  loveliness  in  fuller  light ; 
And  'tis  my  prayer  that  as  the  years  pass  by 
I'll  not  seem  older  to  the  friendly  eye 
But  riper  grown,  and  even  mellowing 
Like  the  rich  fruits  that  from  young  blossoms  spring. 
— By  John  Kendrick  Bangs. 

Page  Forty-four 


THE  TREE 

I  think  that  I  shall  never  see 
A  poem  lovely  as  a  tree. 
A  tree  whose  hungry  mouth  is  prest 
Against  the  earth's  sweet  flowing  breast. 
A  tree  that  looks  at  God  all  day 
And  lifts  her  leafy  arms  to  pray. 
A  tree  that  may  in  summer  wear 
A  nest  of  robins  in  her  hair; 
Upon  whose  bosom  snow  has  lain; 
Who  intimately  lives  with  rain. 
Poems  are  made  by  fools  like  me, 
But  only  God  can  make  a  tree. 

— Joyce  Kilmer. 


# 


I  read  within  a  poet's  book 

A  word  that  starred  the  page : 
"Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make, 

Nor  iron  bars  a  cage!" 

Yes,  that  is  true,  and  something 
You'll  find,  where'er  you  roam, 

That  marble  floors  and  gilded  walls 
Can  never  make  a  home. 

But  every  house  where  Love  abides, 

And  friendship  is  a  guest, 
Is  surely  home,  and  home-sweet-home; 

For  there  the  heart  can  rest. 

— Henry  van  Dyke- 

Page  Forty-five 


EACH  FINDS  HIS  OWN 

"When  I  consider  life  and  its  few  years — 

A  wisp  of  fog  betwixt  us  and  the  sun; 

A  call  to  battle  and  the  battle  done 

Ere  the  last  echo  dies  within  our  ears; 

A  rose  choked  in  the  grass;  an  hour  of  fears; 

The  gusts  that  past  a  darkening  shore  do  beat; 

The  burst  of  music  down  an  unlistening  street — 

I  wonder  at  the  idleness  of  tears. 

Ye  old,  old  dead,  and  ye  of  yesternight, 

Chieftains  and  bards,  and  keepers  of  the  sheep, 

By  every  cup  of  sorrow  that  you  had, 

Loose  me  from  tears,  and  make  me  see  aright 

How  each  hath  back  what  once  he  stayed  to  weep ; 

Homer  his  sight,  David  his  little  lad!" 

9p        •£        «jl 

THE  BEAUTY  OF  OLD  AGE 

"Meseems  she  grows  more  lovely  with  the  years, 

Though  wrinkles  have  begun  to  seek  her  brow 
And  age  with  touch  relentless  swiftly  sears 

The  rosy  bloom  that  graced  her  cheeks  ere  now. 
A  lovely  veil  her  beauty  was,  that  hid 

A  golden  jewel  'neath  its  silken  fold; 
Men  praised  the  beauty  of  the  veil,  but  did 

Not  know  aught  of  the  ornament  of  gold. 
Now,  piece  by  piece,  the  veil  has  dropped  away, 

The  charms  of  youth,  which  men  were  wont  to 
praise ; 
The  jewel  shines  with  a  serener  ray 

Than  did  her  beauty  in  the  bygone  days. 
The  veil  has  dropped  and  brigthly  forth  doth  shine 

The  beauty  of  her  soul,  serene,  divine." 

Pag*  Forty-six 


THE  FIRST  BLUE  BIRD 

Jest  rain  and  snow;  and  rain  again! 

And  dribble !  drip !  and  blow ! 
Then  snow !  and  thaw !  and  slush !  and  then — 

Some  more  rain  and  snow! 

This  morning  I  was  'most  afeard 

To  wake  up — when,  I  jing ! 
I  seen  the  sun  shine  out  and  heerd 

The  first  bluebird  of  spring! — 
Mother  she'd  raised  the  winder  some; 
And  in  acrost  the  orchard  come, 

Soft  as  an  angel's  wing, 
A  breezy,  treesy,  beesy  hum, 

Too  sweet  for  anything! 

The  winter's  shroud  was  rent  apart — 

The  sun  burst  forth  in  glee, — 
And  when  that  bluebird  sung,  my  heart 

Hopped  out  o'  bed  with  me ! 

— James  Whitcomb  Riley. 

•j*         •(•  *X* 

"Build  a  little  fence  of  trust 

Around  each  day, 
Fill  the  space  with  loving  work, 

And  therein  stay ; 
Look  not  through  its  sheltering  bars 

Upon  tomorrow; 
God  will  help  thee  bear  what  comes 

Of  joy  and  sorrow." 
«ji     •{•     tp 

If  a  man  be  gracious  and  courteous  to  strangers 
it  shows  he  is  a  citizen  of  the  world. — Bacon. 

Page  Forty-seven 


THE  LITTLE  PATH 

"Once,  strolling  slowly  down  a  sunswept  way, 
I  spied,  half  hidden  'neath  an  alder  tree, 
A  little  woodsy  path  that  beckoned  me ; 

I  thought  I  should  come  back  another  day 

And  through  its  lure  of  leaf  and  blossom  stray 
And  so  I  sauntered  merrily  along, 
Humming  a  stave  of  some  old  lilting  song 

That  ran,  "Seize  joy  and  beauty  while  you  may." 

But  when  fate  gave  me  leisure  to  return 

I  searched  the  hederow  hour  by  hour  in  vain 
Where  summer's  growth  veiled  all  with  vines  and 
fern ; 
And,  though  life's  gifts  have  brought  me  treas- 
ured gain, 
Each  June  I  mourn  when  dreams  drift  down  the  mind 
The  little  path  that  I  could  never  find.** 

•X*  *X*  •*• 

Would'st  shape  a  noble  life? 

Then  cast 
No  blackened  glances  toward  the  past, 
And  tho  somewhat  be  lost  and  gone 
Yet  do  thou  act  as  one  new  born; 
What  each  day  needs  that  shalt  thou  ask, 

Each  day  will  set  its  proper  task. 

— Goethe. 

•Ji  •£•  »Ji 

"Musicians  tell  us  that  for  every  discord  there  is 
one  note  whose  addition  will  produce  harmony. 
Whenever  you  perceive  discord  about  you,  look 
eagerly  for  the  love  note  that  will  change  it  into 
harmony." 

Page  Forty-eight 


WHY  THE  KATYDIDS  SING 

"I  never  knew  why  katydids  keep  singing  all  night  long; 
I  guessed  about  it  quite  a  bit,  but  every  guess  was  wrong, 
Until  one  day  a  little  boy,  who's  wiser  far  than  I, 
Perched  on  my  knee,  beside  the  fire,  and  kindly  told  me  why. 
And  then  it  seemed  quite  strange  to  me  that  I  could  not  divine 
That  fairy  folk,  like  you  and  me,  love  music  when  they  dine! 

"The  fairies  can't  come  out  by  day,  for  if  they  do,  you  see, 
They  just  dissolve  like  sugar  lumps  that  one  puts  in  his  tea, 
And  though  they  tried  to  teach  the  birds  to  sing  for  them  at 

night, 
The  birds  had  got  to  build  their  nests,  a  task  that  needed  light, 
But  katydids,  although  the  dark  is  black  as  anything. 
Can  see  like  owls  and  bats,  and  so  they  don't  care  WHEN  they 


"The  fairies   taught  them   songs  and   glees  and   choruses   and 

chants, 
And  how  to  sing  in  perfect  time,  as  bands  play  at  a  dance, 
And,  as  they  eat  from  fall  of  dusk  until  the  peep  of  dawn, 
The  katydids,  though  wrearied  out,  keep  singing  on  and  on, 
Until  the  sun's  first  pearly  rays  are  flung  from  east  to  west, 
And  then,  till  twilight  falls  again  they  go  and  take  their  rest. 

"And  so,  some  starlit  August  night,  when  down  the  road  you 

pass 
You  hear  a  host  of  choristers  among  the  meadow  grass 
And  notes  that  every  one  of  them  is  singing  quite  in  time — 
As  steady  as  the  old  hall  clock,  as  rhythmic  as  a  rhyme — 
You  will  not  need  a  nature  book  to  learn  the  reason  why, 
Because,  now  you  have  read  this  tale,  you'll  know  as  well  as  I!" 


Seneca  said:  "I  was  a  little  too  hasty  in  a  dispute 
today;  my  opinion  might  have  been  as  well  spared, 
for  it  gave  offense  and  did  no  good  at  all.  The 
thing  was  TRUE,  but  all  truths  are  not  to  be 
spoken  at  all  times." 

•n       •*•       •*• 

What  incomes  have  we  not  had  from  a  flower, 
and  how  unfailing  are  the  dividends  of  the  seasons! 

— Lowell. 

Page  Forty-nine 


THE  GOOD  SHIP  "HOME" 

The  good  ship  "Home"  was  builded  well, 
And  her  keel  was  laid  with  care; 

Her  pure  white  sails,  all  billowy  set, 
Were  filled  with  the  breath  of  prayer. 

Her  ribs  of  oak  were  the  hearts  of  men, 
And  the  Master  was  given  command, 

But  the  love  and  care  of  the  precious  craft 
Was  placed  in  a  woman's  hand. 

The  winds  of  evil  have  spent  their  wrath — 

The  rocks  have  menaced  in  vain ; 
Tho'  her  sails  look  worn  and  ragged  and  torn, 

How  proudly  she  sails  the  main! 

O  ship! — good  ship,  sail  on,  sail  on! 

And,  womanly  hand,  hold  true! 
You  and  the  Pilot  and  a  world  of  love 

Will  carry  the  good  ship  thru! 

—Walt  Brian. 

THE  SPHERE  OF  WOMAN 

"They  talked  about  a  woman's  sphere — as  though  it 

had  a  limit; 
There's  not  a  place  in  Earth  or  Heaven, 
There's  not  a  task  to  mankind  given, 
There's  not  a  blessing  or  a  woe, 
There's  not  a  whispered  yes  or  no, 
There's  not  a  life,  or  death,  or  birth 
That  has  a  feather's  weight  of  worth — 
Without  a  woman  in  it." 

Page  Fifty 


FAITH 

"I  would  not  see  too  clearly; 

I  love  the  purple  haze 
That  softly  veils  the  distance, 

And  beauty  gives  my  gaze — 
That  leaves  to  Fancy's  limning 

The  things  I'd  like  to  see, 
My  fondest  hopes  undimming 

By  what  can  never  be. 

"I  would  not  see  too  clearly — 

No  prying  thought  would  thrust; 
Whatever  holds  the  future, 

Let  my  poor  heart  yet  trust. 
Love  I  a  friend  unduly, 

I  would  not  know  his  lack; 
If  I  still  love  him  truly — 

My  love  may  win  him  back. 

"I  would  not  see  too  clearly; 

Contented  with  what  seems 
Let  me  keep  life's  illusion, 

The  beauty  of  my  dreams. 
Suspicion  of  the  seeming 

What  good  can  ever  do? 
Oft  if  we  trust  our  dreaming 

Faith  makes  the  dream  come  true." 

•X*  V  *P 

Ah!  when  shall  all  men's  good 
Be  each  man's  rule,  and  universal  peace 
Lie  like  a  shaft  of  light  across  the  land, 
And  a  lane  of  beams  athwart  the  sea, 
Through  all  the  circle  of  the  golden  year? 
— Alfred  Tennyson. 

Page  Fifty-one 


OUT  WHERE  THE  WEST  BEGINS 

Out  where  the  handclasp's  a  little  stronger, 
Out  where  the  smile  dwells  a  little  longer, 

That's  where  the  West  begins; 
Out  where  the  sun  is  a  little  brighter, 
Where  the  snows  that  fall  are  a  trifle  whiter, 
Where  the  bonds  of  home  are  a  wee  bit  tighter, 

That's  where  the  West  begins. 

Out  where  the  skies  are  a  trifle  bluer, 
Out  where  the  friendship's  a  little  truer, 

That's  where  the  West  begins; 
Out  where  a  fresher  breeze  is  blowing, 
Where  there's  laughter  in  every  streamlet  flowing, 
Where  there's  more  of  reaping  and  less  of  sowing, 

That's  where  the  West  begins. 

Out  where  the  world  is  in  the  making, 
Where  fewer  hearts  with  despair  are  aching, 

That's  where  the  West  begins; 
Where  there's  more  of  singing  and  less  of  sighing, 
Where  there's  more  of  giving  and  less  of  buying, 
And  a  man  makes  friends  without  half  trying, 

That's  where  the  West  begins. 

— Arthur  Chapman. 

•P       *3P       v 

LIFE  SOLVED. 

"An  attitude — a  vantage  point  gained,  emanci- 
pation— invulnerability  against  the  aches  and  pains 
which  otherwise  our  fellow  beings  had  the  power 
to  give  us — to  choose  as  from  a  height  WHAT  IS 
BEST  FOR  ONE'S  SELF,  untroubled  by  the 
ideas  of  people." 

Page  Fifty-two 


LITTLE  HOUSE  O'  DREAMS 

"Oh,  little  house  with  windows  wide, 

A-looking  toward  the  sea, 
How  have  you  come,  why  have  you  come 

To  mean  so  much  to  me? 
"Your  walls  within  my  heart  are  raised, 

And,  oh,  how  strange  it  seems! 
My  hopes  but  measure  to  your  roof, 

Oh,  little  house  o'  dreams. 
Oh,  little  place  where  friends  will  come, 

The  tangled  world  to  flee, 
Brave  little  nook  where  peace  will  abide, 

And  hospitality ! 
"Pray  where's  the  magic  wand  I  need, 

To  touch  your  slender  beams, 
And  change  you  to  a  home  in  truth, 

Oh,  little  house  o'  dreams?" 

•*•     •*•     •*• 

FULFILLMENT 

"To  every  ship,  the  harbor  lights; 

To  every  stream,  the  sea; 
To  every  wind-blown  bird  that  roams, 

His  nest  beneath  the  tree." 

•p         «jV         «{. 

Fame  is  the  scentless  sunflower 

With  gaudy  crown  of  gold; 
But  friendship  is  the  breathing  rose 

With  sweets  in  every  fold. 

— Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

Page  Fifty-three 


THE  TOWN  OF  DON'T-YOU-WORRY 

There's  a  town  called  Don't-You- Worry, 

On  the  banks  of  River  Smile, 
Where  the  Cheer-up  and  Be-Happy 

Blossom  sweetly  all  the  while. 
Where  the  Never-Grumble  flower 

Blooms  beside  the  fragrant  Try, 
And  the  Ne'er-Give-Up  and  Patience 

Point  their  faces  to  the  sky. 

In  the  Valley  of  Contentment, 

In  the  Province  of  I- Will, 
You  will  find  this  lively  city, 

At  the  foot  of  No-Fret  Hill. 
There  are  thoroughfares  delightful 

In  this  very  charming  town, 
And  on  every  hand  are  shade  trees 

Named  the  Very-Seldom-Frown. 

Rustic  benches,  quite  enticing 

You'll  find  scattered  here  and  there; 
And  to  each  a  vine  is  clinging 

Called  the  Frequent-Earnest-Prayer, 
Everybody  there  is  happy, 

And  is  singing  all  the  while, 
In  the  town  of  Don't- You- Worry 

On  the  banks  of  River  Smile. 

— /.  /.  Bartlett. 
•t*     •*•     •*• 

Oh  the  little  birds  sang  east  and  the  little  birds 

sang  west, 
And   I   smiled  to  think  God's    greatness    flowed 

around  our  incompleteness, 
Round  our  restlessness,  His  rest. 

Page  Flftv-four  BroJVmng. 


This  little  chicken  just  out  of  the  shell 

Lives  now  in  a  new  world  and  thinks  all  is  well. 

Says,  "What  is  the  matter,  you  earth  folks,  do  tell? 

Don't  know  why  you're  grumpy?  I  do  and  I'll  tell 

Fate  isn't  against  you,  you  re  cracking  some  shell. 

And  when  you  get  out,  sir,  you'll  say,  'All  is 

well/  " 

— Henry  Victor  Morgan. 


"It  never  was  loving  that  emptied  the  heart, 
Or  giving  that  emptied  the  purse." 


^^^^m 


IOAN  DEPT 


ornia 


"^ometotjere  ttje  bluebird  te  tffngfng 
ano  tomging  tta  toa^  to  sou/' 


